Introspection: The Giving Tree

Introspection Series: Volume III

"The Giving Tree"

We are all(or at least those of us who have had a decent childhood) familiar with the Shel Silverstein book by the same title. I personally must have read it a thousand times. No literally the first copy I owned was read until disintegration. I gave myself to that book until it just couldn't take it anymore and fell apart under the weight of my voracity. I don't remember at what age exactly I initially read the book but I am certain that upon completing it I had just read my own biography as told to me by Mr. Silverstein. See I like the tree in the book had a thing for giving. Now as a young person, or as a very emotionally driven person you may see the actions of the tree as loving and caring and generous. I would agree with you 100% on these points, however after deeper examination of the story I realize the scary self destructive potential that this particular level of giving possesses. To the degree that it could be a fault. It is a fine line to walk. On that one may find is increasingly unclear, as the journey continues. See in the book, all the tree wanted to do was be loved back, and so it gave of itself because it loved and desired reciprocity. This is an entirely different conversation(and possibly blog post) in itself, if we try to determine if gestures of love are merely attempts to receive reciprocated affection. In the interest of time and space, lets move on. The previous theory was a very common one about me however I can honestly say that my motivation for my giving nature is not such. There is something about me that just hates to see those around me without. I have a tendency to give and give of myself until, I have nothing left for me. For a long time this was very self destructive. Most recently so in the last serious relationship I was in. It is never a good mix for a person that is needy to be with a person that is giving. It is a toxic symbiosis for both parties involved. I would do and do and do some more. For her, her family, her friends until I burned out. I got to a point where I felt taken advantage of and began to refuse. something that was alien to me. These out of character actions would not last long though as I quickly fell back into to my traditional role of giver. It became unhealthy and it was obvious to everyone around me, save for myself. I had to have a true awakening, and come to the realization that though I wanted to give her the world I could not at the expense of well....my world. Needless to say I had to re evaluate and reset. We wound up broken up. It was at this point that I approached giving with a new attitude. I still desired to give everyone I loved everything they ever wanted but, I realized that I needed to put myself in a better position to do so. I could not just wallow in the mire of my situation. I had to use my desire to give as a motivational tool. I must better myself, and put myself in a better position to give. I had to realize that those who I care about(and who care for me) have a strong desire to see me succeed, and have personal happiness. I had to learn to be concerned with self and strive for personal gain(to a degree at least). I still have a tendency every once in a while to over extend myself in an attempt to give to another but I am no longer hypnotically controlled by these desires. I unlike the tree have learned to give of myself without destroying myself in the process. In the end, It is ME that my loved ones truly desire....

Salaam

And the tree was happy

Shameless Plug

Ok so I am in the process of penning a fiction Novel and thought I would post my prologue for you guys. As always feedback is welcome and appreciated.

p.s. Alonzo William Edwards is my pen name

Throw it all Away

By: Alonzo William Edwards

I hate places like this. They really get under my skin in an exceptional way. It’s like one of those weirdo movies. This dimly lit sub-basement of a public crematorium. The stench of sulphur making love to rotting flesh, climaxing into a potpourri describable as nothing less than hot death, the aroma is almost hypnotic. So much so it nearly causes me to forget why I am here. Almost forget that is until the slow drawl of the man I am speaking to thrusts me back into reality. He is a dwarf of a man quite ogrish in his appearance and not quite as bright as the dimly lit space we are occupying. I see the confusion on his face as the words begin to dribble from his lips. ‘Ok let’s get this straight. Because I am not quite sure what exactly it is you are asking me to do. I mean it’s just that… it’s that I mean you have to admit it is a strange request.” I turn up my lips in a manner that suggests I am not explaining this for the first or last time, and begin to once again divulge my masterfully engineered and up to this point masterfully executed plan to this impish blue collar worker. I stand there in my personally tailored Italian suit, my navy blue appearing black in the low light. Pinstripes from shoulders to feet accentuate my 6’1” athletic frame. Name brand frames and custom color changing lenses wrap around the corners of my neatly trimmed head of deeply waved hair. The collar of my white shirt begins to dampen from the sweat of my neck as I speak. I loosen my sapphire blue tie, thinking how much it accents the azure of my eyes, and realize that perhaps if I had not been born with these exotic optical amenities I would not even be having this conversation right now. I finish speaking to the man who I would have until this point in my life would have considered far below deserving audiences with me, but now I find myself supplicating desperately. He appears to finally grasp my concept. “Ok sir I believe I understand. You are going to pay me one hundred thousand dollars to sell you the ashes of a random John Doe. Then you want me to give them to your wife and family so they can use them at your memorial service.” I smile slightly “yes I need you to do all of these things as well as confirm the death certificate and remember you are doing this as a part of my last will and testament.” The man seems to swallow these words like warm bourbon. “Ok sir I believe I got it all. It’s just that… it’s that. I don’t understand why you are doing this sir. I mean sir you live from what I can tell a perfect life. Why would you want to throw it all away by pretending that it’s over? I mean faking your death. I mean it’s just that… it’s that you have so much. Why would you throw it all away?” I am immediately taken aback. This lowest level of man has spoken words that are immeasurably profound to me. Throwing it all away has seemed to be the theme of my entire existence. It is the reason I am standing here this very moment. He knew nothing, I was throwing nothing away. I was gaining the world. She had thrown it all away. She had done this it was her it was all her fault. He didn’t know that though, he thought I was throwing all away. Hmph.